


Sea-Fire

by jessebee



Series: Folium Curve [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Established Relationship, Force Sensitivity, Hidden Things, M/M, Ocean, Post-Canon, Prequel (of sorts), Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:42:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessebee/pseuds/jessebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Han sees something, but it's not what he thinks it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sea-Fire

 

*

 

There was something about waking up near the ocean.

 

Never mind that Han had done exactly that for more than half of his early life, so that smelling its distinctive tang, even here in his cabin aboard the _Falcon_ , shouldn't feel like anything in particular.

 

But there was still something about waking to the pulse and ebb of the tides, the wild temper of the storms, the sheer unknowable power of the deeps. A rhythm that would go on as long as the planet turned.

 

It was the only thing about his homeworld, if he was forced to be honest with himself, that he missed out in the silent in-between of space.

 

Right now, though, what he was missing was _who_ oughta be with him in the bunk. Han laid his palm on the sheet next to him. Still faintly warm. So, not long gone, then. He grinned, somewhere between amused and annoyed. It just wasn't nice to leave your lover – your still pretty dang new lover, yet – alone first thing in the morning. Supposed to be immediately available, wasn't he?

 

Han rolled onto his back and indulged in a long, luxurious stretch before relaxing completely back into the mattress. Tingles echoed all over his skin, the caress of shadow hands in harmony with the pleasant ache of muscles that hadn't been used quite like that in more than five years. Yeah, well, so, he'd been waiting, hadn't he? Even if he hadn't actually admitted that to himself before last week.

 

And right now, it looked like he'd wait some more. Han stretched again and laughed at himself. His own fault for bringing the kid here, really, but he hadn't been able to resist. The lure of Luke's interest and the challenge of the whole thing as well – Corellia wasn't exactly free of Imperial influence yet.

 

But he'd been right – Luke had been fascinated by the ocean from the moment he'd seen it.

 

…

 

For all that it had been inhabited nearly too far back to count, there were sections of Corellia that nobody bothered with much. Long stretches of coast too broken to be of much official interest, impossible cliffs footed by masses of unstable rock, shattered by the wars or by nature herself in some of her more impressive fits of temper.

 

Unofficially, though … there were some perfect hiding places for a nimble ship. Flown by a good pilot, of course.

 

Yawning, Han dragged on an old pair of pants and a shirt he probably shoulda spaced a while ago, persuaded two cups of kaffin from the food synth, and slouched down the _Falcon's_ ramp. The cave he'd slipped them into was big enough to hide his baby with maybe a quarter width to spare and a nasty, lovely bend that kept them out of visual from the sea.

 

Not out of audio, of course. Or olfactory. Han paused at the bottom of the ramp and took a deep breath. Briny tang carried on the warm, moist air filled his lungs, ringing a little chime somewhere deep in him. _Can't get away from it entirely, can you?_ he mocked himself. _No matter how far you go..._

 

Okay, enough of that.

 

Han juggled cups and reached back in and snagged one of the portable ramp glows, a tiny red light but more than enough to guide him down to the turn of the passage. His boots crunched on rock debris, echoes that faded as he rounded the corner and the low rumble and crash of the ocean took over. And sure enough, Han found his errant Jedi right about where he'd thought he would.

 

Luke sat on one of the juts of rock that bordered the cave mouth, a reasonably flat spit a little above and to one side. His clothes blended in with the mottled begstone; an oddly sandy-colored top and pants that looked a bit like the wrapped stuff he'd been wearing when they'd first met, in that cantina in Mos Eisley. The dark blond hair was longer, too; Luke hadn't had it cut lately, which just added to the mirage image of his younger self.

 

Had it really only been a few years ago?

 

To call it “morning” would be a little optimistic; there was only the faintest hint of flush far out on the horizon, and with no moon the water far below was more an impression than something you could actually see. Except that … Han's mouth curved upward with surprise and delight as he realized what he _was_ seeing. One of Corellia's rarest shows, the lights in the ocean. “Well, I'll be blasted.”

 

“Not anytime soon, let's hope,” Luke said from somewhere around the level of Han's thighs.

 

“Uhm, yeah, let's.” Han settled himself on the chunk of stone just at Luke's back. “Am I interrupting you?” he asked, with not a trace of apology.

 

“Yes,” Luke replied, sounding amused, “but if one of those cups is for me, you might be forgiven.”

 

Han braced one arm on Luke's shoulder and reached down in front of him with the peace offering. Rather than take the cup immediately, Luke wrapped his fingers around Han's wrist to hold him in place and tipped his head back until Han could see the gleam of his eyes. A simple, artless offer Han had no thoughts whatsoever of refusing.

 

He leaned down and sideways to meet Luke halfway. The kiss was warm and sweet, Luke's tongue slipping in to play briefly with Han's own. Desire coiled in Han's stomach, rich with physical promise and more, something that went past the body, something deeper that Han still only about half-understood.

 

Luke released him with a sigh and a squeeze to his wrist, took the cup from him, then shifted until he was sitting against Han, a line of living heat along the inside of Han's right leg. In the ramp glow's faint red cast, Han watched him lift the cup and take a sip, every movement clean and graceful.

 

Somewhere in the six months Han had been all but dead, the gangly, earnest kid with the beautiful smile, whom he'd watched walk away from him on Hoth, had mutated into this elegant, controlled warrior. The transformation still jarred him occasionally. Like now, when the baggy clothes and Luke's too-long hair were almost a weird overlay of past on present.

 

Han had come to love that gangly kid. But he'd fallen like a kiloton of freight for the man.

 

He took a good swig of his own kaffin and set the cup aside. Leaning in close, he draped both arms across Luke's shoulders and tucked one hand flat just below Luke's collarbone, two fingertips charting the slow, steady pulse. Luke's skin was a little cool beneath Han's palm, and the stone under Han's butt was colder still and yet, right at that moment, somehow, everything was … perfect.

 

The fitful breeze picked up strands of Luke's hair and feathered them over Han's chin, catching in his stubble, and hells, even that made him happy. He had it bad ...

 

“So,” Luke said, after a little while. His voice vibrated back into Han's chest. “What is it you're trying to get shot for?”

 

“Hmm?” The reference took a moment to penetrate. “Oh, that. The lights, out in the water.”

 

Luke stilled. “I see them.”

 

Han smiled. “Sea-fire, it's called. It's pretty rare; we're real lucky. Can't predict when or where or if it'll show and most people never see it at all. In fact, most folks think it's a legend. Stories have it that the old sailors used to navigate by it, way back when, but how you use something hardly anybody sees ...” He shrugged.

 

“But you see it.” Luke sounded oddly intent.

 

“Well, yeah, of course.” You couldn't miss it, dark as it was. “Second time I've caught 'em, in fact, which makes me pretty lucky, like I said. But then I knew that,” Han said with what he figured was a perfectly justified touch of smug. He gave in to the urge to brush his chin across the top of Luke's head.

 

“It's beautiful, Han.” A chink sounded as Luke set his own cup down, then he wrapped his fingers around Han's calf. The casual, proprietary touch sent happy prickles along Han's skin. “What do you think it is?”

 

Han leaned forward a little, not that that would help him see any better, of course. The lights weren't a single thing, he thought, but kind of in layers, with different – intensities, maybe. Patterns? “I've heard biological, some kinda micro-life streams, bloom now and then, but ...” He concentrated. “Naw. Looks to me more like ...”

 

The obvious hit him with an impact that was nearly physical, like a smack to the chest, knocking him upright. Han swallowed and grabbed Luke's shoulders for balance. “Energy flows.”

 

“ _Yes_.” Luke's hand closed hard over Han's. “Yes, _exactly_.”

 

And that would mean –

 

Han swallowed again, a lifetime of believing only the sane, rational things he could see with his own eyes fighting a losing battle with the inarguable fact that _he did see this_. The last of his resistance cracking and falling away, already worn down as it was by the last five years or so of knowing Luke, watching him, coming to trust him as he'd trusted few others, ever. Loving him.

 

“Energy,” Han repeated slowly. Was he really going to say this? “Like the ...”

 

“ _Yes_.” Luke half-turned to look up at him and in that moment he was that kid again, eyes bright and that brilliant, too-rare-these-days smile lighting up his face. “Like the Force.”

 

“Sweet stars,” Han said finally. Whacked over the head with something blunt about covered it – the reality shift had him literally dizzy. But gods, for the look on Luke's face … “So, what – or how – ” Oh great, real articulate there –

 

“How are you seeing it? I don't know. You must have some latent sensitivity, and maybe our being – together – recently – ” Luke's smile flashed into something more wicked, “has an effect too.”

 

Han was still thrown enough to let that go by. The lightstreams flowed with the waves below and yet they didn't quite; there was a deeper movement there too, like the very edges of an immense rhythm, vast and sure, something that took in a lot more than just … “You see – _that_ – all the time?”

 

Luke shook his head. “When I meditate, sometimes I can. When I look for it.” His fingers interlaced with Han's where they still curved over his shoulder.

 

Han gripped back, fixed point in a ship with the stabilizers blown. “So it's not like – visible ... ”

 

Luke seemed to decipher that attempt at speech just fine, too. “Human-visible-spectrum light? I don't think so. See how it doesn't actually illuminate the rocks below us? You don't see anything _by_ it, just the Force itself. And how do you see it at all? Is it you, or something about the ocean, unique to Corellia? I don't – ” He took a deep, slow breath and let it back out, muscled shoulders rising and falling beneath Han's hands. “There's so much I don't know, and no-one – ” He shook his head.

 

_No-one to ask_.

 

Unspoken, but it cut through Han's mental tangle like a vibrosaw, followed by the echo of a phrase he'd heard a hundred times, abruptly straining with new meaning. _The last Jedi knight._

 

Luke was alone with this. The two teachers he'd had, for barely a few moments each, were dead – although apparently not completely gone, which was frankly pretty disturbing. And the only other beings who had any understanding of it at all, even a little, were the sister who didn't really want to know and the other two – also dead – who'd done their level best to destroy him.

 

Forever apart, simply because of what he was.

 

Han's personal paradigm took another unscheduled jump but settled faster this time, snapped into place with the faint lambency of blond hair and the warmth of the man pressed against his leg.

 

Like _hells_ he would let that man be alone, or apart.

 

Han took a breath. “Y'know, that can't be right.”

 

“What can't?”

 

“There has got to be _somebody_ else who knows something, somewhere. It's a big galaxy. Lots of places to stay outta sight.”

 

Luke craned around to look up at him, silently questioning, and Han felt a tickle of heat run up under his shirt collar but what the hells, he wasn't stopping now. “Kenobi got himself completely lost for what, twenty years?” He shrugged. “He can't've been the only one that smart.”

 

A curl started at the edges of Luke's mouth. “I've – been thinking about taking some time, investigating some rumors. It might be a long trip.”

 

“Yeah? You'll need a good ship, then, an' I know where you can get one. And a pilot with some real experience.”

 

Luke's smile was nearly a light source all on its own, and more than made up for all the trouble Han knew, just _knew_ , they were going to run into.

 

*

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> [6.20.16]  
> H/L 
> 
> post Endor [somewhen]  
> possibly AU  
> adjunct prequel scene for Tesseract  
> For HollyC, who pretty much flat-out insisted I write this and then smacked it into shape for me; and for Cara Loup, who saw something missing and asked so nicely for it!


End file.
